


Reading Between Lines

by Airmid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Castiel (Supernatural), Awkward Tension, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Crack, Destiel - Freeform, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Possibly Unrequited Love, Uncomfortable Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 00:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12805314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airmid/pseuds/Airmid
Summary: In their efforts to convince Dean Winchester to fully submit to heaven, Castiel believes he has found a way. A way he doesn't fully understand, but a way.





	Reading Between Lines

**Author's Note:**

> A little, weird, cracky oneshot that could be the start of something, or Dean putting himself into witness protection.
> 
> As a heads up - there are a few slang terms used that are rather gross if one stops to think about it, and have a food theme.

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you sure this will help convince this human to come to our side?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered. “They are a species preoccupied by sex and this human in particular.”

Michael frowned at that, a slight ripple through his grace, and Castiel knew he was displeased by this news. His brother had been unhappy ever since the name Dean Winchester had become the quietly whispered name in heaven. Rumors were everywhere about what this human engaged in, his blasphemous ways, and his overall coarse nature, and even the constantly threatened wrath of Michael could not incinerate the gossip entirely.

His time on earth watching over Dean had taught him not all rumors were false.

Michael’s grace grew darker, more turbulent, and he schooled himself to not think such thoughts in such close proximity to his general.

“You have watched them for centuries, little brother. Did you not learn how this works?”

“I did, but there seems to be certain types. Some is done out of violence, some out of a sense of duty or need for children, and some purely for pleasure. It is the latter we need but the mechanics look the same between breeding and pleasure. I was attempting to understand if it was just the mental state that changed it.”

The pages were taken from his hand, Michael reviewing them, and he felt instantly comforted. He knew his brother would be able to guide him on what each of these terms meant. Even with the pencil drawings, he felt vexed by the whole situation. Even the first part, which proclaimed itself to be a guide to romancing a human, made little sense to him.

Why would being so drunk that one could not see be an asset?

Ruffling of pages, Michael still reading, and Castiel chanced a look. His brother appeared, well, perplexed, and he felt almost instantly defeated. Michael could create a star. If he could not understand the delicacies of this in a fast manner, then it may not be a prudent plan.

“I believe you intoxicate them to lower their judgement threshold,” Michael said, answering his unasked question. Castiel stared straight ahead. “It is all these terms that leave me puzzled. Are these what are used today?”

“It is supposed to be an updated how to date and copulate guide.”

“I see.”

Michael went back to reading. Castiel shifted, uncomfortable, as he remained in his vessel while his brother was merely pressed to a smaller point in order to converse with him better.

A small sound, and Raphael was beside them, copying their older brother in being smaller than he truly was.

“Yes, Michael?”

“I want you to read this.”

“What is it?”

“A guide to romantic human sexuality,” Michael answered.

“Why would either of you be reading this sort of disgusting, vile tripe?”

“Castiel believes it will help make my vessel compliant.”

“Or we will simply blackmail him with what has happened in the future,” Castiel added as both his brothers stared silently at him for a long moment.

“Or that,” Michael said. “As long as it puts him into our hands, I have ceased to care. The issue, Raphael, is understanding this nonsense they pass off as language.”

“I see,” Raphael said as Michael handed over the papers. “And you think I would do better?”

“You are the healer.”

“I fail to see what that has to do with fornication amid the monkeys.”

Michael did not answer and Raphael, weary, simply took the pages as Castiel tried to occupy himself with thoughts other than his own ideas. It was dangerous to have any ideas that were not of heaven and its glory, especially when beside his older brothers. No good would come by letting his thoughts wander, he had already risked enough to present a plan that was not commanded of him.

“I did not know they must become intoxicated to mate.”

“Apparently, it is done to feel pleasure while mating,” Michael replied.

“And this is needed?”

“Raphael, it is to make him compliant. I hardly think anything less would make him more willing.” Michael’s voice, exasperated and strained, rang out across heaven.

Castiel wondered what the rest of his siblings thought of any overheard parts. He hoped it was more along the lines of them beating Dean Winchester, and not in the way those pages described. The way Michael shifted beside him affirmed his brother was thinking the same.

“Attempting to look through mud would be clearer,” Raphael complained. “It speaks of a ‘fur taco’ with an undetailed sketch that could be several dozen things. None, I will add, appear to explain what a fur taco is or why a human would want one. Then it instructs that the ‘sausage’ be put in the ‘honey pot’ for the ‘hot beef injection’.” A pause. “Are you sure you did not accidentally pick up a cook book?”

“If it is a cookbook then humans can become pregnant by cooking, as there are instructions later on as to how to avoid that,” Castiel answered. He at least had, to some extent, understood the references to wrapping things in clear plastic to avoid buns in ovens, as the text with pictures where much clearer for that section.

“I always thought it was pleasurable and not just for breeding purposes,” Michael murmured, looking over Raphael at the pages. “This gives little instruction on the pleasure portion.”

“Perhaps it is in the language used,” Raphael suggested.

“I think it best to not use the term breeders, they appear to be offended by that.” Castiel felt unsettled when his brothers looked at him for what felt like far too long.

“Of course,” Raphael said, slowly, “we would not want them to be upset.”

“It does not matter, Raphael. What matters is that if it is the wording, then that is what Castiel must learn if he is to make that foolish, obstinate, and rather underwhelming human more willing.”

“Certainly, Michael.” Raphael said. “I feel it is easy enough to do. Are you sure you want Castiel to do this, or should you go?”

“Even I know that they have strange ideas of family and what is, or is not acceptable. It should be Castiel, he has a vessel and the only ones easily retrievable for me are from their recent family. We wish to relax him, not make him more hostile.”

“Yes, Michael.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Personal space, Cas!” was all he could get out, trying not to flail in distress, when the angel appeared directly behind him to the point of almost touching. “I know we’ve talked about this crap before.”

“I apologize,” the angel said serenely, staring at him with something that he’d rather not think about in his eyes.

Trying to calm himself and look away from the intense stare, he noticed that Cas had something hanging from his left hand.

“You brought beer?”

“Yes.”

“Since when do you want to drink? Or is that just for little old me?”

Without a word, the angel held up his arm, pushing the beer towards him. Dean took it, noted it was one of the fancy pants brands that were always twice as expensive as the good old American stuff. There was something really off though, from that stare, to the strange body language.

It was a nervous energy, but angels shouldn’t get nervous. Well, not that he had known a lot but most of them had a pompous streak bigger than the universe. Things that stuck up should not be nervous. Knowing this didn’t help keep an anxious feeling from spreading in him.

“So what’s the occasion?”

No answer, just more of that weird staring. Cas still had his arm up from when he had offered him the beer, causing his trench coat to bunch in ways that made Dean uncomfortable just looking at it. Well, proof that they definitely didn’t feel the same, as standing like that would be damn unpleasant.

Dean shuffled his feet, wondering if he was going to need about three more cases to get through whatever angel crisis was going on.

“Something that I should know? Cause, man, gotta tell ya, felling a bit in the dark.”

“I understand that we are both bears without an oyster,” Cas began, and Dean was instantly confused and disturbed as to where this was heading. “I hope that it is not off putting to you, as I believe my ham flower will feel good for your baloney pony when we engage in playing hide the salami.”

It was a small miracle that he didn’t just drop the beer. An even bigger one that he was shocked instead of bursting into wild peels of insane laughter, because if that had happened he wasn’t sure he would have been able to ever stop.

A dream, that’s what this had to be, some really screwed up part of his brain that farted this into existence in his sleep for entertainment.

“Did – did you wander onto the wrong side of the internet again, Cas?”

The angel finally moved, waving his hand and offering him a small stack of papers. Dean put the beer on the bed and shuffled through them. It was a holiday story with crude drawings and so many terms that even he had never heard of. And that was saying a lot given his hobbies.

Just skimming the whole thing almost turned him off food forever. Almost.

“I did not wish to use the term ‘bump uglies’,” Cas supplied helpfully and needlessly, as if brutally aware that this could definitely be made weirder. “It would seem to imply that you were that and I highly doubt you are.”

Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Are you saying you want to have sex with me?”

Something happened to the angel’s face at those words. It took a moment for him to realize he was as close to seeing Cas smile as he had ever been.

He never wanted to see it again.

“Yes.”

“O-kay.” He tried to find some kind of footing and felt like the whole damn world was wiped out from under him. “Why? I mean, I know I’m a fine piece of ass and all, but you’re an angel and just – just – why?”

“I wish to enjoy these bodies with you.”

Dean eyed the beer. Probably best if he didn’t get blindly smashed with a weird, rather creepy angel eyeballing him like he was well-served meat.

There might actually be a God, because he heard the sound of the Impala as it pulled up outside their lime and citrus themed shithole for the night. Sam walking in a minute later was a welcomed sight, a bag swinging from one of his brother’s giant mitts he tried to claim where normal hand size.

“Leave it and go!”

Cas’ voice wasn’t more than slightly louder than normal, but the power of it made Dean skitter back into the bedside table. The corner ground into his thigh, the lamp clattered before he just barely caught it before it finalized its swan dive. All the color was out of Sammy’s face as he tossed the bag on the table and just ran, door slamming behind him. The hysterical part, the piece of him breaking at the crazy all around him, was amazed that there weren’t little cartoon drifts of hair in Sam’s wake.

He was going to have to field a lot of angry, hurt Sam looks for the next few weeks over this, he just knew it.

“Okay, so one, not necessary to kick out my brother because two, we are not doing that together.”

“Did I not say it correctly?” Cas somehow had a wounded look in his eyes that were collecting fine lines at the corners.

“No, ah, you said it perfectly. Heard you loud and clear there, Major Tom, even if you are orbiting really, really high.”

He did take a moment to contemplate if maybe the angel was on drugs, perhaps there were substances out there that could affect something like him. It could all just be a bad heavenly trip that they just needed to ride out till the hallucinations ended. And apparently weird urges best left forgotten and never addressed at any point in his natural life if not longer.

“You have done this with strangers.”

Nothing the angel said was actually helping, especially with how he managed to sound hurt in monotone.

“Yeah, that’s been a thing,” Dean said, cautiously. “But I think I’m going to see you more and, uh, it would be good if we didn’t just leap to that point.”

He wasn’t even sure he could get to that point with a dude, well just one dude and no women around. Let alone some heavenly being that spent half his time threatening him.

“You desire conversation first.”

“Yeah, I desire actual talking first,” Dean said, sighing as he went to go see what his little brother had drug home before he sprinted back out the door while probably trying not to piss himself.

It seemed to be some wonderful smelling giant bacon cheeseburger with onion rings. He was definitely getting weeks of Sam angst after tonight and almost snapped at Cas before he turned. The angel had quietly sat at the table, looking lost. Whether it was because of how this had turned out or that he hadn’t quite mastered chairs yet, Dean wasn’t all the way certain.

“Why don’t we start with why,” Dean said, making himself comfortable because it was obvious this wasn’t going to go away no matter how much he really, deeply wished it would.

Cas stared down at his lap for what seemed like hours.

“Because I would like to.”

It was so quiet and probably one of the most honest things he thought he had ever heard in his long, godforsaken life. Which of course made him feel even more like scum in his pursuit of never doing whatever the angel had wanted with his ‘ham flower’.

“Alright. Let’s just, dial it back a little, huh? Maybe start at step one instead of at the finish line.”

Whatever idea he had had of maybe getting Cas off this whole idea altogether was dashed when the angel looked at him with such hope that it was wilting being under it.

As he finished off dinner, as long as Cas lost whatever freaky vocab he had picked up, he could at least handle this part. Maybe there was even some heavy duty angelic anti-psychotic he could secretly feed to the angel.

Glancing up, Cas was still looking radiant, eyes riveted on him. He was eternally grateful Cas had attempted the beer portion instead of the one that had talked about cranberry sauce.

Yep, as soon as Sam was speaking to him again he was getting his brother up-to-date on finding the dosing of angel crazies. A man had to sleep at night after all.


End file.
